The house still slept when I eased my suite door shut, heart hammering like I'd imagine a thief's would. My boots made no sound on the polished floors as I crept down the back stairs, skirts clutched high so as not to snag. At every creak of timber, I froze, certain Magnus's sharp eyes or Leighton's calm voice would pin me where I stood. But the silence held.
Outside, the air was sharp with dew, the vineyard cloaked in mist. Eagle’s Rest loomed behind me, dark and silent, while the stable lanterns threw a faint glow against the boards. My hands shook as I slid the latch and stepped into the warm musk of hay and horseflesh.
I'd never stolen anything in my life. Yet here I was, saddling a bay gelding with trembling fingers, whispering a shaky prayer he wouldn't whicker loud enough to rouse the grooms. He tossed his head once, as if sensing my inner turmoil, but stilled when I pressed a face to his neck.
"I'm sorry," I whispered, throat tight. "But I can't stay. Not with them. Not with their secrets... not with whatever else is going on."
Dawn broke pale over the mountains as I rode hard for the town we'd visited yesterday. My body ached with eachmile, thighs still raw where Magnus's kisses lingered, my throat stinging beneath the choker I couldn't make myself remove just yet. When I reached the outskirts, I slid from the saddle, leading the gelding into the back lane of the livery.
The man who I got the horse from me eyed me curiously, but the glint of greed in his eyes assured me he was the perfect person to help me out. The price he offered was half what the horse was worth. I swallowed the lump of shame and agreed, pressing the reins into his calloused hands.
The loss cut sharper than expected.
So, I opted to add another wound, knowing I deserved the pain.
I asked the stable attendant where I could get a fair price for my mother's wedding band. His grin was predatory as he sent me to a merchant just opening up his stall.
Once again, I didnotget a fair price, but I needed everything I could get, as fast as I could get it. I had a coach to catch beforetheyfound I had run.
By the time the coach rattled into the square, my ticket was bought, my hastily packed valise stowed. I climbed up with shaking legs, every turn of the wheel carrying me farther from Eagle’s Rest, farther from their touch, their kisses... their lies.
And still, even as the countryside blurred past through the tears in my eyes, I couldn't shake the fear that at any moment, a dark stallion might appear on the horizon.
That they would find me.
The coach lurched through the mountain passes, then rattled down the long road toward the coast. By the time the Table Mountain range rose jagged against the horizon, my body was sore, my eyes gritty after a sleepless night, and my coin purse lighter still from paying for bread and watered ale at the waystations.
Cape Town.
Bustling streets, the scent of salt and sea, voices carrying in a dozen tongues. Upon my first time travelling through the large city, I'd been too tired, too excited at the prospect of meeting Leighton to pay much attention to it.
Now all I could think while taking it in was that it was nothing like Eagle’s Rest. The noise pressed in on me, the sheer scale of it leaving me dizzy. Perhaps that was a blessing. Too much sound, too much bustle.
This was good. It left no room in my head to linger on my heartache.
I gripped the valise tight as I stepped down, ignoring the way men's eyes followed me, some curious, some calculating. The plain dress I'd chosen to travel in was wrinkled, my boots now scuffed from my middle of the night flight in the stables. I could only imagine what my hair and the rest of my person must have looked like.
I needed lodging. Somewhere to get cleaned up so I could regroup and figure out what on earth I was going to do next. I didn't have enough money to get back home, and there wasn't anything there for me anyway.
I mentally calculated how much I had left stashed away after the coach ticket and winced. I would just have to make it work. Find something affordable and as respectable as possible. I might be ruined but I was not going to beruined.
I followed a sign promising 'Rooms, Clean & Reasonable' down a side street, close to the harbor, the sea air thick with fish and coal smoke. The boardinghouse keeper was a stout woman with a kerchief knotted over her hair. She eyed me up and down, then my coin purse when I asked about a room.
"Payment for a week will be needed up front," she said briskly. "No questions asked so long as you don't bring men into your room, and don't cause trouble."
I pressed the coins into her hand before my courage failed. The room she showed me was little more than a narrow bed, a washstand, and a cracked window with a view of laundry lines strung between buildings. It was damp, small, and I'm certain I saw a rat scurry past, but for now, it would be home.
When the door shut, I set my valise on the floor and collapsed onto the mattress. The thin ticking smelled faintly of starch and old soap.
Now that I'd made it to Cape Town, I should have felt safe and relieved.
Instead, tears burned my eyes. I pressed my fingers to my lips, trying to keep the sobs at bay. I shouldn't be this affected. I'd hardly been there a week, and had a mere handful of interactions with them.
I rolled onto my side, curling up small, as if that could hold me together. "You're free now," I whispered into the musty pillow. "You can do this, Lisa. Ma and Pa raised you to be strong and independent. You don't need two men to help you along your way."
So why... why did I feel so hollow?
There was nothing for it. I gave myself the night to mourn, to feel, to lie in a bed that smelled of strangers instead of them.
